Chapter 13 #3
“I often find women tiresome,” she said after a moment’s pause. “The hour in the drawing room after dinner with a large party is a trial to me. Women are always in competition. Oh, perhaps not always, but I feel it nonetheless. They are rarely truthful, always comparing and judging.”
Elizabeth thought on this for a while. “They are often in competition with one another, and I suppose they often say one thing when they believe another, but you cannot have those fears with Miss Darcy, and I am sorry if I ever gave you an indication of being insincere.”
“No, not at all, my dear Miss Bennet,” she said warmly.
“You must not let my unsocial nature allow you to believe I do not admire you. I am truly glad that you stayed at Pemberley with me. Miss Darcy is sweet, but she is young and too shy to be good company yet.” Elizabeth gave her a reassuring smile.
“In some ways, the gentlemen are easier to talk to, but of course one must be cautious in cultivating friendships with a man too.”
“I do not think that in this small group of friends it is a problem. But it is not as potentially damaging to your reputation. In your case, as a widow, you can have a gentleman friend and no one will raise a critical eye.”
She shrugged and looked over her shoulder at the miniature of her late husband. “I must be above reproach always, and that is best done with silence.”
Elizabeth now felt she had a better understanding of Mrs Lanyon’s behaviour today. “No one here would reproach you.” She paused. “Colonel Fitzwilliam looked surprised and happy when he arrived and saw you at the breakfast table.”
Mrs Lanyon only nodded, and Elizabeth tried again. “Did Colonel Fitzwilliam know Captain Lanyon?”
“Slightly; we had the same group of friends whilst my husband was alive. He was always kind to remember me, to include me, after Captain Lanyon died.” She gave a small smile. “The colonel is an amiable man, he listens well . . . easy for me to talk to . . .”
When she said nothing else, Elizabeth said, “He makes a better first impression than his cousin does.”
Mrs Lanyon laughed and in that moment appeared much younger. “I suppose so. Although most would say that Mr Darcy is the more handsome man.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam might be considered plain by comparison,” Elizabeth led, wondering if Mrs Lanyon might contradict her.
“Yes, but he has so much countenance! And he is tall and well-made and has an engaging smile. I defy anyone who has spent time with him to call him plain.”
Elizabeth smiled, and Mrs Lanyon blushed and looked again at the miniature. Elizabeth said gently, “Captain Lanyon has been gone three years, and everyone deserves to be loved by someone.”
“No,” Mrs Lanyon said sharply, “everyone deserves to at least know what it is to be loved. I have already had that once.”
“Do you feel as though you are being disloyal to Captain Lanyon if you love a second time?”
“To love again, to marry again, some would call it a betrayal.”
Having never loved and lost a husband, Elizabeth sat silent for a long moment. “I cannot speak from experience, but I feel that a worthy man would understand that you have room in your heart for both your first husband and a second. Was Captain Lanyon not such a man?”
Mrs Lanyon reached over to pick up the miniature. “He always said that if he died in battle that I ought to find whatever happiness in life that I could.”
“Are you avoiding Colonel Fitzwilliam because he is not the type of man to understand you will always have an affection for your first husband?” She did not believe it of him, but Mrs Lanyon appeared to know the colonel better than she did.
“Oh no, my dear Miss Bennet,” she answered softly. “I avoid him because he is a good man, one who might be devoted to me if I let him, and I do not know my own mind. Many believe that a widowed woman who was happily married does not deserve to marry a second time, after all.”
“I think what matters is what you and Colonel Fitzwilliam have to say on that point.”
Mrs Lanyon struggled with what to say. “Well, as I said, I do not know my own mind enough, and I should not raise his hopes. I have had lapses in judgment with him over the past year, and it ought not to happen again.”
“Lapses?” Elizabeth blushed as she realised her meaning. “And how far did these lapses tend?” she asked with a playful look. “You fluttered a fan in his direction?”
Mrs Lanyon smiled knowingly and shook her head. “A lapse as in the consequence of our every private interview leads to an increase in passion. Must I speak more plainly?”
“Oh no, I simply wanted to hear you admit it! You grinned at the memory of these passionate lapses after all.” Mrs Lanyon covered her red cheeks with her hands.
In a more serious voice, Elizabeth added, “I hope you will not allow your first love to prevent you from finding a happiness that you richly deserve.”
“We have spoken enough about me,” she said primly, forcing herself back into composure. She clearly did not wish her affection for the colonel to be universally known. “Have you had any lapses yourself?”
“Me?” Elizabeth asked, surprised. “I am a proper maid; no lovers for me. I can boast a few stolen kisses from curiosity, but most of my embraces are chaste kisses from forfeits in games. In general, they convinced me I really ought to try harder to win.”
“You did not mind the forfeit during Kiss the Nun earlier this week.”
That felt so very long ago, but it was only four days. Elizabeth thought of the game and Darcy’s surprised expression when Mrs Lanyon agreed to be the grate. “It was clever of you to change places with me so Darcy would have to kiss me rather than you.”
Mrs Lanyon did not look embarrassed. “Is it so wrong for someone who was once very happy in love to wish to form her friends into a happy couple? It is clear that there is something between you and Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth refrained from making any similar remark about her new friend and Darcy’s cousin. “How did you know?” Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. “Even Jane could scarcely believe I had a reason to hope Mr Darcy might love me, let alone how much I want that to be true.”
“I knew for certain when we played the ribbon game on Monday.” At seeing her questioning stare, Mrs Lanyon said, “Whilst Mr Bingley distracted us, Mr Darcy answered to the type of man he wished for his sister, and you looked at him with absorbed attention.” Elizabeth remembered what he had said about an affectionate husband and an attentive father.
“And he looked right at you. He wanted you to know what manner of partner he would be.”
“I think,” Elizabeth said slowly, “that anyone fortunate enough to be Mr Darcy’s partner in life would have extraordinary sources of happiness attached to her situation.”
“I had at first thought yours was an instant attraction, but now I realise on both sides it is a stronger affection.” Mrs Lanyon leant forward in earnest. “It is a shame that this storm has occupied Mr Darcy’s attention, although I suppose you are not so selfish as to blame him for it.”
“Not at all. But I confess that the continuance of his preference feels more uncertain now than it did a few days ago.” The reservedness of Darcy’s manner towards her contradicted one moment what a more animated look had intimated in the preceding one. When will he ask me again?
“His mind is oppressed, that is all,” Mrs Lanyon said firmly.
“You are right that one must make allowances for all the trials he is facing.” With so much to occupy him, she wished there was something she could do or say to convince Darcy to take her into his confidence.
“He will come to the point before we must meet your sister in Scarborough.”
“Perhaps all we need is to convince Mr Darcy to play a parlour game and make certain that I lose? If I pay a kissing forfeit to him with enough enthusiasm, maybe he will make his intentions known.”
“And then you and he could have as many lapses in judgment as you wish!”
They both laughed, and Elizabeth kept secret her own curiosity and enthusiasm for committing such a lapse with Darcy.
She had reason, of course, to believe that his admiration included a desire that matched her own.
Despite every insulting word he had said during his proposal, Darcy had expressed how ardently he admired and loved her.
To think on it now made her blood run hot and her body ache with wanting.
What remains is for him to make me those offers and commitments that would guarantee the right to satisfy the love and restless passion I feel for him that has been intensifying since I arrived at Pemberley.
Mrs Lanyon’s smile faded, and she set aside the miniature of her late husband and joined Elizabeth on the sofa. “Please forgive me if I have overstepped. I simply want you to be as deeply and as happily in love as I—as I once was, Miss Bennet.”
Rather than mention her equal hopes for her friend’s happiness with Colonel Fitzwilliam, she said, “My friends call me Lizzy.”
Mrs Lanyon looked surprised, and then bowed her head trying to hide a large smile. “Hester, if you please.”